


We Are Going Back In Time

by GlitternGlow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall - Fandom
Genre: 007, Bond but not Bond, Character Death, I took a lot of liberties with this, M/M, Swearing, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitternGlow/pseuds/GlitternGlow
Summary: Draco has been 007 for a while, his mother and father, even his friends are part of MI6.One day he sets his eyes on his new handler, a scruffy black-haired youth with enough balls to stand up to him.Can they beat Silva and bring him down before anything else happens? And will Draco have the guts to tell Harry how he feels?Written for LCD 2019 for the Prompt "Skyfall" - 2012 - Sam Mendes"





	We Are Going Back In Time

**Author's Note:**

> Great thanks to Erin and Tami for being amazing Mods on this fest and hope they are all well to do this again next time.
> 
> I have taken a fair few liberties with this story, starting about 4 scenes from the end of the Movie "Skyfall". I hope you enjoy it, and if you're a hard core Bond fan, I hope there are no hard feelings. :D
> 
> Also apologies to the requester of this one, it took a different turn and kind of wrote itself this way (a lot shorter than I was going to do it, so the special requests didn't make it :( ...)
> 
> Thanks to my Beta as well for being patient and amazing.

Draco had always known he was going to be amazing. His father was head of the secret service, went by M. His mother second in command and he…well now he was 007.

It had been three years since his promotion here, and he had been through a ton of handlers. He didn’t like them and they didn’t like him. There was nothing to be done for it. He just worked better alone, well, alone with his little group of trusted snakes. Blaise and Theo, Pansy too when she wasn’t off with his mother.

It wasn’t long after that that the Q branch got a new prodigy. Scruffy black hair, jeans ripped in places and an incredible build that made Draco’s mouth water. Not that he would ever admit it.

The first day they got into a fight. The second day the guy presented him with a new gun. The third day Draco found out that Blaise and Theo had been speaking to him, and liked him.

A week later, the tech prodigy was his handler. He was sarcastic, irritable without his coffee and downright amazing. Draco was actually in love. He took another three weeks to get his name out of him, that he was a top-notch hacker, and that he was here because his Godfather was here. And he didn’t have anyone else. Harry was an enigma, and wouldn’t tell him who his godfather was. Only the codename Padfoot. Draco knew enough about the organisation to know a codename like that meant big stuff, something he didn’t want to be involved in.

That had caught Draco’s interest enough to keep annoying him in Q branch, in the pretext of getting new weapons when he broke the old ones, by accident of course.

His father was pleased Harry lasted more than two days as Draco’s handler, and that’s how, months later, Draco found himself chasing a criminal through the London Underground with a snarky brunette in his ear.

“Left Draco, god, how many times do I have to tell you, I ALWAYS mean your left!” the voice cracks in his ear as Draco careens off the wall and down the service tunnel after Silva. He has to catch him, one of the idiotic other hackers let the man into the system, let him have access to everything and let him escape. Draco knows this is worse than a breach of security, this is fucking red alert.

He shoots off a few rounds but the knock has ruined his aim, his arm's shaky and he curses as he misses again. “Shut up, you just make it worse. Get someone down here with me, where the hell is Blaise?”

“Clearing up the mess you left behind above ground. He’s gonna get on the train, faster, Draco.”

Draco wants to snap back at him but he doesn’t, he needs the breath for running as he sees Harry is right and Silva’s just hopped the train and it’s already moving away from the station. He runs, the doors closing and just makes it. He doesn’t have time to stop, however. The package Silva picked up cannot get to its destination. “Where’s M?” he grits out as he follows Silva up the train and then the bastard gets off at the next stop. The escalators are packed and Silva goes down the middle, Draco takes the handrail and his dismount is better, gaining precious seconds on the man.

He can hear ridiculously quick clicking of a keyboard as Harry is quiet and then a swearword he thinks is supposed to be under his breath. “At the hearing. I’ll inform Theo, he’s there with him.”

“Why are you using my men?” Draco asks, actually curious as he rounds another corner in the underground. There’s a service door he knows wouldn’t have been left open and yanks it back before following it down again into the dark. 

He can hear banging, clicking still and curses being thrown at people who aren’t him from Harry. “Go get M and go home,” he says, he puts the emphasis on home and Draco understands. He needs to be off the grid after he saves his father. “He won’t leave, give me a minute. Don’t die.”

The line kind of fuzzes out but he knows Harry is watching, as well as likely talking to someone else. “Okay,” he breathes, making Draco jump as he follows the shadow down the corridor, “I’ve got someone going to meet you there and- Draco, stop!”

There’s a huge explosion then, half the tunnel caves in and a train skims so close to his face he can’t breathe, but he’s alive, even if the people on the train might not be.

Silva is gone, back topside most likely. “Fuck!” he swears. “I’ve lost him.”

He feels like he can see Harry nod. “Get to M, its where he will go. I’ve almost got things contained here. After that I’ll be on my way alright? I promise.”

The voice is softer, and sometimes they get these moments, usually right before everything goes to hell and someone ends up in hospital. Draco cherishes these moments almost as much as the gentle brush of fingers he gets when he is given new equipment and told to bring it back without a scratch. He never does, but the sentiment is there.

There is silence on the line then, but Draco knows that kind of silence. Harry got word of something he doesn’t want to tell him. He can hear the sirens, knows he has to move so starts making his way up and out. He knows the conference centre is a ten-minute run and he makes himself do that too. He knows Harry will be running fingers through his thick hair, making it stand up more than it already does. He knows that he will be biting his lip.

“Parkinson’s down. Protecting M.”

Draco draws in a breath. She was supposed to be safe, with his mother. Not with his father who is a much bigger target. Draco wants to throw something but he’s too busy running. 8 minutes.

“Theo is getting him out, there will be a car. Go to point 5, there’s another car waiting for you and leave Theo. He has other things to do and I don’t need there to be more of you for me to watch. Got it?” The last bit is snapped and Draco knows that Harry is setting the defences back up around MI6, knows he’s talking to Theo, his father, probably his mother too, as well as the other agents in Q.

“What about Snape?” he asks despite himself. His godfather was busy with something last he saw, but that doesn’t mean he’s still busy with it now.

“Busy, but I’ll try to get him to you if at all I can, I’m sending Padfoot to your- you. Just get there.”

Draco almost trips then. His father wouldn’t tell him anything when he had asked, even though he had sworn he didn’t want to be involved. But for Harry to be able to pull him from whatever he was doing. He must love his Godson.

He isn’t the only one.

He gets to the hearing room, there’s men everywhere, M is pinned down behind a bench with Theo, there are a few of their own men but a lot dead. He doesn’t look at Pansy.

He scans the room, ducks a round of quick-fire bullets and slams his arm up, three shots and the fire extinguishers fill the room with powdery white smoke.

Theo drags his father over, uncaring of appearances and they make it to the car. Theo is driving, he knows where he’s going.

“We need to get ahead of him. M, we need to use you.”

His father nods permission, he can see that he’s a little shaken even when usually nothing would shake him. “Harry says she’s ok. Snape too. He’s getting them to safety.”

Imperceptibly, his father’s face relaxes a little. At the reminder, he puts a hand to his earpiece. The faint noise is still there but it’s overridden by the sound of a bike of some kind.

“You there yet?” the voice comes over the com and Draco is about to snark back when Theo answers instead and Draco realises that Harry has put them on the same feed for now. Probably while he’s driving.

“Yes, just pulling in now. Are you sure-“

“Yes, Draco, out, Theo needs the car more than you.”

“Are you driving?” he asks back, more for something to say than needing the answer. There’s an affirmative noise however.

“Motorbike,” comes the answer and Draco’s mind, unbidden, comes up with pictures of Harry in tight biker leathers, straddling the body of a powerful bike. He’s able to use one of course, but he never was a bike person before.

His father breaks his bubble by getting out. “Theo…you sure? You don’t have to take orders from Harry.”

Harry is silent at this, but Theo shrugs. “His plan is sound. Just do your bit.”

They switch cars, which is something Draco does know about, and wonders why Harry picked the 1965 Aston Martin DB5 instead of something flashier and faster. It’s a great car, but it doesn’t seem fit for the situation.

“Maybe that’s the point,” the voice comes over his ear as if it read his thoughts and Draco grimaces as he gets in and finds the keys in the ignition already. His father seats himself in the other side and they are off. 

“Harry,” he starts, to let his father know he isn’t talking to him, and to get the tech’s attention. “Why there?”

M asks him where they are going but he doesn’t answer. Only he needs to know, and Harry too. Anyone else, including his father right now, is a liability.

“Tell him if you want. By the way, Parkinson’s not dead. She’s down with the rest of Q. They are finishing up the defences and laying a trail that I gave them for Silva.”

Draco feels immense relief but…. “Why aren’t you laying the trail?”

He doesn’t get an answer then, just more noise so he quickly looks to his father. “We are going back in time,” he says, knowing he will understand.

The rest of the journey passes in mostly silence, M asks for updates and Draco asks Harry. After the third time he gets snapped at to tell M he’s busy saving his ass so to shut up. He repeats it and his father raises an eyebrow at him, but there is a light dancing in his eyes and a slight tremor to his lips that Draco knows means he’s laughing. He’s glad he likes Harry, but now isn’t the time.

The house is dark when they arrive, he expected it. He didn’t expect the eerie feeling of the moors to come back so strongly. The mist isn’t helping, it has rolled in and will make this place worse to defend if it comes to it.

M gets out of the car and goes to the old wooden doors, thick oak and still as strong as the day they were made. Reinforced with steel Draco knows they will last longer than the walls around them.

“It’s a strange choice, but perhaps a good one. Considering the damage that might be wrought here.”

Draco resists the urge to roll his eyes and taps his com again. Harry has been too quiet but he knows he’s there, he can hear mumbling that means he’s trying to talk to someone else.

The house seems deserted and Draco and his father go right for the hidden weapons. Unfortunately, they seem to have gone, apart from one hunting rifle and some sticks of dynamite.

“There ya are,” a voice says from behind them and Draco flinches. He can’t help it. He didn’t see or feel anyone come anywhere near them. His father has his pistol out but lowers it when he looks at the shaggy haired, bearded man.

“Padfoot. Thank god you got my message.”

The man ignores his father then and walks over to Draco. He laughs and it's a hearty sound despite his look.

“No message from you M, but my little godson asked me to protect his blondie if I could. So naturally I was curious on who caught his eye. 007 eh? Not a bad choice.”

Draco wants to blush at this man but his upbringing was better than that, and his father is right there. The large black-haired man ruffles his hair with a smile.

“There isn’t a lot here, but you’ve the training to make something from nothing right?” he asks and looks around the almost wrecked living room. “There’s nails, glass, a few other bits, and the electrics still on, somehow.”

“Generators power the place, solar and wind,” M steps in, at least he knows the answers to these things. Padfoot nods.

“Come on, let’s see what you have before we-“ he pauses and Draco feels a surge of jealousy as he knows by the slight softening of the man in front of him that it must be Harry. Then he tenses. Padfoot is taught, ready to fight or flee but his muscles are corded so tightly Draco thinks it must be painful. “Pup why?” he asks without care to his audience and Draco wishes he could act that way. There is a sigh and Padfoot shoots Draco and his father a hard look. “Fine but hurry it up.”

“What is it?” Draco dares ask, breaking the tense silence.

“Harry is nearly here. He has some ideas for getting us out alive. Says there should be a tunnel to the church.”

M then starts and nods, moving through the house until he comes to a wall panel that looks like any other. He presses something and it moves aside. “It was an old priests’ tunnel.”

“Then that’s our escape. But our first stand comes here. Start making what you can, I’m going to test this one’s aim, then we will be back.”

Draco’s aim is not the issue, as he proves over and over and they go back and get to work. The light bulbs are replaced with nail bombs, floorboards rigged to either collapse or shift upwards. Everything that could be a weapon is one, and then the dynamite is set up.

The whole house goes with that one, Draco and Padfoot make sure of it.

The noise of the bike makes them all still, but Padfoot just nods and pushes them onwards as the bike is collapsed in the dirt near the car and Harry comes running into the house, laptop in arm and already talking to them.

“They are about a mile behind me. We better be ready,” he says and shoves his laptop into a bag that sits so close to his back it’s like a second skin, before he pulls out three pistols and a shotgun. He hands this last to Sirius as he tucks one pistol in the back of his belt, and holds the other two.

Draco knows Harry can shoot, even the Q branch need to know this, but he doesn't know how well.

He's about to find out.

“More than ten, less than twenty, but I can’t do better than that,” Harry's voice comes to his ear. He’s at the other end of the house. Padfoot and his father are in the middle somewhere. The firefight is about to begin.

When they are in their positions M catches him. “I’ve fucked this up haven’t I?” he asks, in a moment of weakness Draco has never seen. He shakes his head, looking right into those grey eyes that measure his own. M nods and moves back to position.

The first shots aren’t theirs, windows get smashed, men are gunned down. One of them gets in, behind Draco, pulls his gun across his neck in an attempt to strangle him as Draco kicks out, his feet hitting the solid wall and giving him the leverage to get free.

One of the bulbs goes off, nails flying everywhere and he can hear the sounds of death and destruction. Someone gasps. He isn’t sure who it is as, at the same time, a loud staccato of gunfire echoes through the house and his ears.

Then Harry groans.

Draco moves, flipping a light switch in the kitchen that sets off a chain reaction for the men in the entryway and soon they are nothing but dead bodies he has to walk over.

Harry is somewhere in the library, he knows it.

He passes his father with Padfoot, and he tries to void their eyes. “I’ll get Harry, check for Silva among the dead.”

They start to do as he says, they all want to know.

Harry is just pulling a long knife out of a man as Draco enters the library. That was the last one and he rips the mask off, not Silva there. He thinks that Silva isn’t here. He wouldn’t have gone down so easily.

“Are you alright?”

There is blood covering Harry’s shirt, seeping into the fabric but Draco wants to think it’s not his. He needs to think that. So when Harry laughs and nods, he lets himself be put at ease.

“These guys were too easy. Let’s go back to Sir- Padfoot and your father.”

They meet back up, each man is unmasked and none of them are Silva. Draco curses and kicks one of the dead bodies. Then he sees his father. “You’re hurt?” he asks and his father straightens.

“No, I would not be hurt by this puny attack.”

Draco sees Harry roll his eyes, so he doesn’t have to do it but nods, there isn’t enough time now. They have to move.

“We should take stock of what we have left and-“ Padfoot stops, sharing a look with Harry before the both of them start pushing towards the Priests’ tunnel.

There is a blaring of rock music then, almost loud enough to cover the flutter of the helicopter as it hovers over the moor.

Harry runs to the door, shoulder pressed against it before Draco can even move and starts shooting at the copter, it shoots back, ripping through the walls.

“Get out,” he hisses at them before moving and shooting from somewhere else, giving the impression there are more of them than there are. Padfoot starts to help and Draco feels he should be the one trading fire with Silva.

However, his father is opening the tunnel, just as the helicopter lands, and more of Silva’s men materialise from the darkness.

There’s a clacking sound that is too familiar to them all, and the library goes up, the grenade would have killed them all. Another grenade is bounced in Silva’s hand as they watch and he pulls the pin, throwing it neatly into the Aston. Draco lets out a small wail of protest, and empties his clip at the oncoming men and Silva. Unfortunately, he misses, a few men down isn’t going to make Silva stop.

“Right, get out. I’m going for the dynamite.”

His face must look serious because Padfoot grabs Harry and almost bodily pulls him through the Priests’ tunnel after his father. Draco walks with cold fury.

There is nothing to be salvaged here, nothing to remember in his old manor house. Only the ghosts of a lonely youth, trying to be better than he would be, and vying for the attention of a father who would never see it.

He throws the match and runs, racing the trailing light, as he knows Silva is on his way into the house. He slams the Priests’ door closed and sprints. He catches up with the others. Is his father limping? He doesn’t have time to think. He grabs Harry who is walking out with one hand holding the laptop and the other typing away quickly.

“Nothing on there is worth your life,” he hisses and pulls. Harry follows and slams the laptop closed before speeding up.

Then everything explodes. Draco hears the helicopter go down from there, then he feels the heat getting closer. “Run!” he yells and they do, spilling out into the moor while the flames follow.

Harry, Padfoot and M are already half way across the lake. His father has a small flashlight to guide them. The lake ice is thick enough to walk on but it doesn’t seem like a good idea to test the theory.

Draco starts to make his way across, when he hears footsteps, he’s bowled off his feet before he knows what’s hit him, and then the gunfire resumes, all around him.

There’s a crack and he and his assailant still one second before they are plunged into the icy waters of the lake.

Draco struggles, the man still adamant about holding onto him. He goes for the gun, shoots and the man lets go. The water murky with the blood now and still below freezing. Draco needs to get out. He forces his legs to swim, knowing that he needs to get to Silva, to Harry and his father.

He breaks the surface with a huge gasp, but it’s pitch black and there’s no one there. 

“Draco,” the voice is soft, slightly scared. “Draco…please answer me.” The voice hitches, a sob breaking free.

“Harry,” he breathes and there’s a gasp before a watery laugh. “He’s ok,’ he hears Harry tell the others before there’s a shot fired and Draco goes cold.

He remembers the way to the chapel, he knows it even in the dark now he’s out of the lake, and he runs. His lungs are burning and his body shivers from the cold. He has no bullets left, the gun left in the lake with the body of the one who used the last bullet.

He moves slowly when he gets into the chapel. It’s a small place, the entrance alcove and one room. There has been no other word from Harry, and Draco fears the worst, but he won’t say anything. He doesn’t want to give the game away in case Harry is doing something.

Then he hears the sobs that he knows are Harry, sees the body that he’s crouched protectively in front of, it’s not moving but Harry isn’t looking.

Harry’s shirt is even more covered in blood now, and Draco still doesn’t know if it’s his or not. Then his eyes track up for his father.

Silva has him, a hand on his shoulder as another waves around, their heads are next to each other. “Pull the trigger, kill us both. You deserve it, M, you know you do.”

Draco sees his father’s finger twitch and before Draco knows what he’s doing the knife from his boot is sailing through the air into Silva’s back.

He doesn’t care if it’s dishonourable, he cares that the people he needs are safe. Silva’s body slumps and M steps back. 

“Last rat standing,” Draco mutters before going over to his father. Before he gets there however M starts to collapse. Draco lunges to catch him and he smiles.

“I did get one thing right,” he says before his eyes close and his body becomes heavy. Draco takes a look over at Harry. His head is buried in his Godfather’s chest, his breathing is shallow, though Padfoot doesn’t look in much better shape.

Draco lays his father’s body down carefully. “Harry. Harry is backup coming?”

He falls down heavily next to them, realising they are both in bad shape, then his eyes widen. Harry’s eyes are closed. He meets the eyes of Padfoot and tears fill those dark eyes as his hand grips into the back of Harry’s hair.

“They are coming, he managed that before….” He says and Draco sees the blood then, sees the gaping wound in Harry’s side that he managed to hide, to fight though. He sees the pain in the eyes of one of the most trained agents Britain has, and he wants to scream.

Instead he leans forward and places a kiss on Harry’s lips. They aren’t cold like he expected, but then, it hasn’t been long.

The rescue team are quick. The medics whisk them all away. He can’t decide whether to go with his father or Harry. The decision is made when Padfoot forces his way into the helicopter they put Harry in. He is injured too, broken bones by the looks but he wants to be with his family.

Draco sits beside the quiet body of his father. He doesn’t know what it was that caused his death, the gasp at the house must have been him, the limp must have been something more serious. He is gone now, M is dead.

He only hopes Harry’s godfather will forgive him for pulling Harry into this. That his mother will forgive him for not saving his father.

He starts to shiver, the cold of the lake seeping into him, and is wrapped in a warm blanket and given a hot drink. He doesn’t want it but he sips it.

The hospital is blurry. His mother knows the whole story already, apparently Harry had rigged his device to record video without Draco knowing. His mother doesn’t blame him at all. She is proud of him. 

He bursts into tears despite himself.

\--

Draco looks over the grey scene London presents. He is healed now, it has been three weeks. His father’s funeral over, and his mother taking up the mantle of M, Pansy being her second.

Draco doesn’t care. He is drowning in grief he doesn’t know how to deal with. He has never told Harry anything, never told him how he feels. Never wanted him to die for him.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he forces himself not to flinch. Padfoot is good at what he does, and sneaking up on people is his life. “Hey kiddo,” he has started to call Draco that since the fight. Draco glances at him, he is holding a folder in his hand.

“I’m heading back out into the field.”

Draco nods. He doesn’t want to do anything right now. He just wants to watch the world go by, so much darker without Harry.

“How?” he chokes out. “How can you even…?” he trails off. Padfoot was trained for this. They were all trained for this.

What he doesn’t expect is the bark of a laugh that comes from the taller man then.

“Come on,” he says, though it isn’t directed at Draco and he holds his breath as he is spun around to face the doorway.

He is on crutches, and bandages cover the parts of him that aren’t covered by clothes but he is there.

“Harry,” Draco breathes before he knows he is moving. Then his hands raise, and he is kissing. Those soft lips pausing in shock for a second before they push against his own. The crutches fall to the floor with a crash and Draco takes Harry’s weight into him, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. They pull back and Harry giggles at him.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he says with a cheeky grin. “So, you ready to get back out there? Padfoot needs a second.”

Draco looks back at Padfoot, dossier in hand, then to Harry. ‘One more,” he says and leans down to lock their lips again.

He will never let this man be hurt again, everything that comes he will destroy. Every threat, neutralize. He pulls back, flipping the crutches back up with his foot so Harry can stand, and looks back at the man Harry named Godfather. He knows then that this man is the same as he is, the glint in his eye is nothing to be afraid of unless you are against him.

And Draco is most assuredly on the same time side as this man. He reaches out, and Padfoot drops the top-secret file into his hand with a grin.

“Welcome back,” he starts as Draco realises his own godfather entered the room behind Harry.

“Indeed,” he drawls, propping Harry up a little as he wobbles. “Welcome home, 007.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.


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